


Through a Glass Darkly

by QuokkaMocha



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Execution, Gen, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Mirror Universe, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuokkaMocha/pseuds/QuokkaMocha
Summary: The side-effects of an experimental weapons test leave Ronon and Zelenka stranded in an alternate version of Atlantis. The challenge is to get home, and to survive the plots and counter-plots that fuel this universe's version of the city and the team.
Relationships: Teyla Emmagan/John Sheppard
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during Season Four, between "Travellers" and "Tabula Rasa". My aim is to post a chapter each week.

1.

Zelenka hadn’t been so relieved to see a stargate up ahead of him for a long time, and despite the aches in his calves from the trek across the woodland landscape to get there, he quickened his pace at the sight of the pewter-coloured arc just beyond the next thicket of trees. For the last two hours, he’d walked through untouched forest, forcing his way through weeds, thorns and gnarly roots, while the equipment bag on his shoulder seemed to grow heavier with every step. And although he hadn’t heard a sound from Ronon Dex since they’d left their camp, he could feel the Satedan behind him and imagined he was still glowering. The silence between them had become as thick and oppressive as the undergrowth, and once or twice Zelenka considered trying to break it with a bit of small talk, but a glance over his shoulder at Ronon had been enough to kill that idea. Best just to let him brood until they were back on Atlantis and could go their separate ways.

Ronon himself seemed to have no trouble with the rough terrain and swaggered through the bushes as if they were made of air. Zelenka still couldn’t fathom why he’d wanted to come in the first place. The last time Ronon had followed him on an excursion, he’d spent the whole time griping about how the equipment they’d brought scared off his game, and yet, when Zelenka had persuaded Colonel Carter to let him go back to this planet and take a closer look at some of the Ancient ruins they’d found, Ronon suddenly wanted to come along. He must have seen something on their initial trip that caught his interest, though Zelenka couldn’t work out what. Besides the ruins, which were interesting and contained a few defunct Ancient devices that hadn’t been identified, there was nothing on this planet but trees. If there were any animals to hunt, Ronon either hadn’t caught any or had disposed of them before returning to camp. Whatever he’d wanted, though, he’d obviously found Zelenka to be a nuisance yet again, hence the sulky silence.

The trees thinned and a patch of open grassland lay before them, with the gate about a hundred metres from the edge of the woods and its DHD set off to one side, surrounded by blood-red bushes. Zelenka headed automatically for the device, then paused. He stared at the DHD, sure he’d seen something move. It had only been there for a second, then it had flitted away as soon as he’d noticed it. The bushes, though, were completely still. There wasn’t even a breeze to stir the leaves.

Ronon carried on past him towards the gate and turned, looking at him with an annoyed expression as if to tell him to hurry up. Zelenka watched the area around the DHD for a few more moments, but saw nothing odd, and so crossed over to it and punched in the address of the Atlantis gate from memory.

He saw it again, this time in the corner of his eye. He was certain something had moved, and turned to look. The air a metre or so away shimmered slightly like a desert mirage, then settled back to its normal state.

‘What is it?’ Ronon asked.

‘Did you see that?’

‘See what?’

‘There’s something…’ Zelenka couldn’t think how to describe what he’d seen. It could just have been an atmospheric phenomenon, something natural to this planet, that they hadn’t noticed before because they’d spent most of their time under the canopy of the forest. Still, as he scanned the line of trees at the edge of the woods, he thought he saw several more slivers of disturbed air, flickering into existence for a few seconds then disappearing. Did it really matter, though? He could make a note of it in his report and if anyone was interested enough, they could come back and investigate. At that moment, all he wanted to do was to get back to his quarters, get a shower and enjoy some peace and quiet where there wasn’t a distinct possibility of violence at the hands of an irate alien.

‘Nothing,’ he said, more to himself than to Ronon, and hit the final symbol of the address. The gate activated and spat out a plume of energy before it settled down to its usual pool of rippling blue light. Ronon strode up the flight of stone steps leading to the event horizon and disappeared into it. Zelenka gave the planet and its odd, disturbed forest one last glance before he followed.

He stepped out into the gate room and had just enough time to register that there were people in his way, standing right in front of the gate, before he was shoved aside and fell with a painful thud onto the floor by the stairs. Shouts rang around the place. It took a moment for him to focus on the individual voices amidst the cacophony and work out what was being said. A voice called out, ‘Get down, on the floor!’Zelenka tried to sit up, to ask the nearest figure what was going on, when something cracked across the back of his skull and the world exploded into a red haze, which quickly dissolved into darkness.

2.

Ronon Dex had realised he’d made a stupid error as soon as he heard himself say, ‘I’ll come with you,’ and had followed Zelenka through the gate. But it was either that or endure another one of McKay’s supposed lessons in close combat and, much though Ronon enjoyed seeing McKay get his ass kicked, he simply wasn’t in the mood that day for the whining and excuses that generally accompanied it. So he’d taken the first escape route he’d found, and only afterwards thought about what it would entail. The planet he’d gone to had nothing to hunt,. The only wildlife he’d seen were some purple, eel-like things living in the rivers which were too easily caught to make good fishing. So he’d roamed around and tried not to let the constant bleeping and chirping of Zelenka’s computer and instruments grate on his nerves.

Although he’d never return to his old life on the run, he had to admit that sometimes he missed the solitude, the idea of relying solely on his own wits to survive, and not be dependent on others, some of whom, and he looked over at Zelenka as he thought this, were as defenceless sometimes as those purple eels. Part of him was glad they were headed back at last, but another part wished he could stay on his own for a while longer, to enjoy the silence of the place. Too late, however. Zelenka was already by the DHD and had started dialling up the gate.

Ronon fiddled idly with his sidearm as he waited, but found his attention continually drawn to the line of trees nearby, off to the east of the clearing where the gate stood. He stared in that direction for a long moment but couldn’t see anything that would’ve triggered his instincts like that, but the hairs along the back of his neck were on end, and every nerve in his body told him there was something dangerous nearby. He and Zelenka had spent two days amongst the ancient ruins. Ronon had been with the team when they made their original reconnaissance trip to this planet, and he’d had never felt anything like this before. The planet had seemed dead, devoid of any interesting life, no doubt stripped by the Wraith long ago. Yet now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something watching them, always moving out of sight when he tried to focus on it.

He glanced over at Zelenka and, perhaps it was his imagination, but Ronon thought the little scientist seemed on edge as well, distracted. He was staring back the way they’d come, towards the woods that surrounded the ruins, but he was frowning, as if he, too, was trying to fathom what it was he was seeing.

‘What is it?’ Ronon asked.

‘Did you see that?’

‘See what?’

Ronon’s hand fell instinctively onto the handle of his gun. He followed Zelenka’s gaze towards the woods and for a moment, thought he saw something. There was something odd about the air, the way it shimmered as if it was a hot day, but the effect appeared for an instant then vanished, to reappear in another spot seconds later.

‘Nothing,’ Zelenka muttered, then hit the last symbol.

Perhaps he was right, Ronon thought, though he didn’t believe it. Still, they were headed away from this planet and might never return. Typical though, that things would get interesting just as they were due back on Atlantis. He turned and headed through the stargate, hoping there wouldn’t be anyone waiting for them on the other side. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to go to his quarters and enjoy the silence.

It wasn’t that he resented any of them, even Zelenka, annoying though he could be. It was just… Ronon couldn’t quite get the mess of feelings in his head to coalesce into anything logical. He supposed it was just that, although they treated him like one of their own, he never truly was. At the end of the day, he was an alien, and their jokes and references often flew straight over his head. He was sure most of them thought he was an idiot and he didn’t really care. If people thought you were stupid, they underestimated you, and that gave you the upper hand. But the truth was, sometimes they were just so different. They cared about things he couldn’t for his life see the value in. Other things, that any normal Satedan would’ve flown into a rage over, they ignored. When he was alone, at least, he fitted in, even if that solitude was a heavy load to bear at times.

He stepped out of the gate and felt his heart sink a little as he saw several security officers dotted around the room before him. Then it hit him how odd that was, and he tensed again. There were at least half a dozen armed men and women scattered around the gate room, and that meant some kind of trouble. He spotted Major Lorne standing just behind the group of SOs and made for him, opened his mouth to call out and ask him what was going on, when the butt of a rifle hit him square in the stomach.

The blow was so unexpected, it knocked the wind out of him and he doubled over, which gave the other SOs the chance to move in and land more hits against his ribs and temples. Soon they had him on his knees and he looked up at them, trying to make sense of what was happening, but all he saw were wide eyed, rage-filled faces, and the blows continued to rain down.

‘Enough,’ said a voice nearby. He recognised Lorne and looked up to see the major headed towards him, though the SOs kept a hold of his arms, two to each side, and stopped him from standing up. Another reached in and grabbed his sidearm, while two more stood back and covered the others with their own weapons.

‘Lorne,’ Ronon managed to growl, and he tasted blood as he spoke. ‘What the hell…’

‘Knows your name, sir,’ said one of the SOs.

Lorne wore the same expression as the others, anger but anger that concealed terror. They were afraid of him.

‘Major Lorne,’ Ronon tried again. ‘It’s me. What…’

‘Take him to security and let Colonel Sheppard know we’ve had an incursion attempt,’ said Lorne. ‘Where’s the other one.’

‘It’s Doctor Zelenka, sir,’ someone called from the other side of the gate room. In the chaos, Ronon had forgotten Zelenka and now looked for him, but the SOs dragged him to his feet and marched him towards the door before he could see anything. The last thing he heard before they pushed him out into the hallway was Lorne cursing under his breath.

3.

Zelenka recognised the infirmary and worked out from the throbbing pain at the back of his skull that he’d been in some sort of accident, though when he tried to remember what had happened, things were a blur. He’d come through the gate and there had been a lot of people and a lot of shouting. He had just glimpsed Ronon on his knees before someone shoved him down onto the ground, and then… that was where it went hazy. Had any of that actually happened or had he dreamt it while he was unconscious? He closed his eyes and fought off a wave of pain and nausea and listened to the muted bustle around the infirmary. He could hear Carson Beckett somewhere in the distance, giving instructions to someone, and the persistent bleep of an IV unit that needed resetting. Then there was a scuff of footsteps coming his way. They stopped at the end of his bed, so Zelenka forced himself to open his eyes, even though the lights were painfully bright, and with great effort, he pushed himself up against the pillows. Evan Lorne stood watching him with a concerned expression.

‘Doctor,’ he said, standing up a little straighter. There was something overly formal about him that made Zelenka uneasy. ‘You’re awake.’

‘That’s debatable,’ Zelenka replied quietly, and felt the back of his head. There was no dressing and nothing that felt like blood, but he traced the edges of a painful lump just behind his left ear.

‘I wanted to apologise in person,’ Lorne went on. ‘My soldiers acted too hastily. But when they saw the intruder, well, in all honesty, sir, they panicked, and with you in civilian clothes…’

‘What are you talking about?’ Zelenka asked. He tried to think what he’d been wearing earlier and was sure he’d been in uniform. And what intruder?

‘I’ve taken the liberty of seeing to their discipline myself, sir,’ said Lorne. ‘I hope that’s acceptable.’

‘One of your soldiers hit me?’

Lorne looked away, embarrassed. ‘Sir.’

‘What intruder? What happened? I was… I was off-world and…’

‘He’s been dealt with, sir,’ Lorne said, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘As I understand it, Dr McKay didn’t exactly have clearance from the supreme commander for your mission, so I know you can’t go into the details of what you were doing off-world, but if you don’t mind my asking, sir, how did the primitive get through the gate? Was he acting alone or were there more of them? Should we mark that planet as hostile?’

‘I don’t know anything about any primitive,’ Zelenka said. ‘I came back with…’

‘Sir,’ Lorne interrupted, and flashed a wary glance off to his right. Zelenka looked in that direction and saw Beckett headed towards them, his attention fixed on a folder he was reading. Lorne took a step back to allow the doctor access to the bedside monitors, which Beckett checked briefly, then he tucked the folder under his arm and leaned over and felt around the back of Zelenka’s head. His hands were oddly cold and he pressed too hard against the spot where he’d been hit, sparking more flashes of pain that took Zelenka’s breath away for a moment.

‘Fine,’ Beckett said at last, straightening. ‘Nothing too serious. Which I suppose is good news for you, Major. Doesn’t exactly look good on one’s record to have killed a senior officer.’

‘No, sir,’ said Lorne in a low voice.

Zelenka studied the doctor for a long while, as Beckett went back to consulting his notes. He had that same, stiffly formal attitude that he’d seen with Lorne earlier, and for the first time since Zelenka had known him, Beckett was wearing glasses to read. He was about to ask Beckett about it when a thought hit him like a bucket of cold water.

‘Carson,’ he said, thought it came out as little more than a whisper.

Beckett glanced up briefly and gave a dry laugh. ‘On first name terms are we now?’

Whereas before, Zelenka had felt that something was a little off and had put it down to concussion, now he knew that something was very, very wrong. Carson Beckett was dead. It had taken a moment for his memory to clear and his mind to catch up but now he was sure of it. He’d been at the funeral. He’d been one of the pallbearers. Carson Beckett had died months ago in an explosion. Yet if he was a ghost, he was a very substantial one.

‘I don’t see any reason for you to stay here,’ Beckett concluded. ‘I imagine you and Dr McKay have things to be getting on with. Little schemes to plan. That sort of thing.’

He gave a slight sneer then walked off, rejoining the same group of nurses and other staff he’d been talking to when Zelenka first awoke. Zelenka stared after him, wondering again if he actually hadn’t woken up, and was still lying unconscious somewhere dreaming all of this. But then Lorne bustled around to the side of the bed and opened a small cupboard there, jarring Zelenka out of his reverie.

‘I took the liberty of having your uniform brought through while you were unconscious, sir,’ he said, plucking garments from a rail inside the cupboard. He draped each piece over his arm and then turned and laid everything out along the foot of the bed.

‘Thank you,’ Zelenka said automatically. He looked around the bedside, at the small unit beside him and the top o the cupboard. ‘Where are my glasses?’

Lorne regarded him with a frown. ‘You don’t wear glasses, sir. Do you mean sunglasses? Should I fetch something…’

‘No, no, it’s fine.’

Zelenka watched as Lorne continued to lay out the clothes, and an idea occurred to him that made everything inside him turn cold. Everything Lorne had taken from the cupboard was black, and none of it looked like the uniform Zelenka was used to, the one he’d been wearing when he returned to Atlantis, though as Lorne returned to the cupboard and checked inside, presumably to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, Zelenka spotted his usual blue shirt crumpled in a heap at the bottom. He took hold of the uppermost garment on the pile and pulled it towards him for a closer look. It was a heavy woollen coat, longer than a normal suit jacket, with the Atlantis mission patch on the right sleeve. Only it wasn’t. It had the same pegasus design as the badge he wore on his own jacket, but the writing on this one was red rather than gold. On the left sleeve, there was a flag patch, but although he recognised elements of it - the double-tailed Czech lion, the orthodox cross of Slovakia and behind those, a red star with a hammer and sickle in gold - it was not the flag of the Czech Republic he remembered. He remembered the strange atmospheric effects he’d noticed on the planet just before they entered the gate. Was it possible that they, somehow, had affected the wormhole, and connected not to his Atlantis, but to some other version of the city?

‘Do you know where they took the… the primitive who came through with me?’ he asked.

Lorne had gathered up the heap of clothing that Zelenka had been wearing when he was brought into the infirmary and now stood with it draped over his arm.

‘He’ll be in detention, sir,’ he replied. ‘Colonel Sheppard wanted to question him. Why?’

‘I’d like to speak to him myself.’

Lorne nodded and gave a faint smile. ‘Of course, sir. I’d probably want a bit of revenge too if one of those bastards tried to use me to get to Atlantis. Like I said, he’ll be in one of the detention cells. Best get to him before Sheppard does, or there might not be anything left.’

He smirked, then patted the pile of clothes on his arm. ‘I’ll have this cleaned and sent up to your quarters, sir. Is there anything else?’

‘No,’ Zelenka said. ‘No, I’m fine. Thank you.’

Lorne regarded him with a strange expression and Zelenka wondered if the major wasn’t used to getting thanks. The way this place felt, he could believe that.

4.

Ronon paced around his cell and fought the urge to punch the forcefield once again. He’d already done it twice and all he’d achieved was to give himself an ache in his shoulder and a sharp pain in his temple, which hadn’t subsided even when he left the barrier alone.

‘You’d be better to save your strength,’ said a voice nearby.

Ronon had sensed rather than seen the occupant of the cell next to his when he first arrived. Then he’d noticed a figure, dressed mostly in black, sitting on the floor behind the bench attached to the wall for the occupant to sleep on, but this was the first time the other prisoner had spoken. Ronon paused and looked at him properly. He could make out the top of a head covered in ice-white hair. From that and the slightly inhuman timbre of the voice, he worked out who, or rather what he was speaking to.

‘Why should I listen to you, Wraith?’

The Wraith stood and wandered over to the bars that separated their cells, regarding Ronon with his head cocked to one side and a faint smile on his green, lipless mouth.

‘I may have only been here a short while, but I’ve seen dozens of idiots like you,’ said the Wraith. ‘I’ve seen them go through all the stages you’re going to go through. The shouting, the indignation, the professions of innocence, the despair and finally the submission. And it isn’t a pleasant journey from one stage to the next.’

‘What do you care?’

‘I don’t,’ said the Wraith. ‘I’m just sick of watching the same show over and over. A bit of variety would do wonders.’

‘If you don’t like the show, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten yourself captured.’

The Wraith smiled, bearing teeth. A few were missing or broken.

‘Wouldn’t that be nice? And to use one of their expressions, ‘look who’s talking’. What did you do? Try to assassinate the supreme commander? Or did you come here thinking you could free your queen and return the hero?’

‘What queen?’ Ronon asked.

‘Please tell me you didn’t come here to beg them for aid or food or anything like that,’ the Wraith went on, ignoring his question. ‘At least say you have some dignity.’

‘Who’s ‘they’?’

‘Or maybe you’re just an imbecile,’ muttered the Wraith. ‘Our friends, the elite of Atlantis, the true heirs of the Ancients, or whatever it they’re calling themselves. The ones who put you in here.’

The main door to the detention area slid open and the Wraith darted back into the shadows, returning to his spot on the floor. Ronon straightened, ready to punch whoever or whatever came near him. The figure that came tentatively into the room looked like Zelenka, only dressed in black and without his glasses, but the body language was familiar. He moved like a nervous animal that had just heard the cry of its predator. He glanced around, as if checking they were alone, and stared for a moment at the Wraith. The other prisoner didn’t move or even look at him. Then Zelenka turned his attention to the control panel at the corner of the cell.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, keeping his voice hushed.

‘Fine,’ Ronon answered. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Zelenka said. ‘I have an idea, but… _kurva_! This isn’t the same system as ours. It’ll take me a moment to disable the forcefield.’

‘What do you mean it’s not the same as ours?’

‘I don’t think this is our Atlantis. Something happened to the gate when we came through.’

‘But this is Atlantis,’ Ronon said.

‘I know. But you remember when Rodney and his sister tried to build the bridge between universes?’

Ronon did and he nodded. ‘When the other one turned up. Rod.’ He sneered at the memory. One McKay was bad enough.

‘Exactly,’ said Zelenka. ‘Something similar happened to us. At least, I think. I think this is another universe, similar to our own but not exactly.’

‘So how do we get back?’

Zelenka swore at the control panel again and shook his head, then sighed.

‘I don’t know. Right now, I don’t even know how we got here. But if the version of McKay here is similar to ours, he might be able to help. I’m going to try and find him, but you need to…’

The door opened again and Zelenka straightened. Ronon moved back instinctively, putting a bit of distance between him and the doctor, not wanting whoever it was to know they’d been in conversation.

‘Doctor Zelenka,’ said the newcomer, as he stepped into the light, though Ronon had already recognised him by his voice. John Sheppard, or this version of him at least, wore the same black uniform as Zelenka, and carried his rifle slung over his shoulder. A ropey white scar ran from beneath a patch, that covered his right eye, down to the to the line of his jaw. Otherwise he was the same as Ronon remembered, except that this man carried a strange air about him. It caused the same surge of tension as the weird shimmering things he’d seen on the planet. There was something dangerous about this John Sheppard. Ronon could practically smell it on him.

‘Sorry to disturb you,’ Sheppard said to Zelenka, though his tone implied he was anything but. ‘I need a word with the prisoner.’

‘I was just…’ Zelenka began.

‘I would’ve thought you’d want to see McKay before you waste your time on something like this,’ said Sheppard, lowering his voice. ‘Kind of got the impression he was keen to speak to you, last time I ran into him.’

Zelenka obviously got the hint. He swallowed, nodded, then headed for the door, though before he left he gave Ronon a final look that was probably meant to be encouraging, though Ronon couldn’t help but deflate at the thought that this was his only backup. If they were going to survive this, whatever this was, it would be down to him.

Sheppard ventured a little closer to the cell, arms folded, regarding Ronon with his one good eye and an expression of mild amusement.

‘So,’ he began. ‘How do you want to play this? Are you going to be one of those boring guys who tries to tough it out, tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about and I can go to hell, or can we cut the crap and you tell me who sent you here? Was it Teyla Emmagan?’

Ronon realised too late that he’d reacted to the name. He saw Sheppard’s smile widen.

‘Okay,’ said Sheppard. ‘So what did she send you here to do? Assassinate the supreme commander? I can’t believe she’d be stupid enough to try and escape. Or did you think you could break her out and she’d be so grateful to you that she’d make you one of her husbands, is that it?’

Ronon scoffed, then realised that Sheppard was completely serious. He thought about making something up, but couldn’t think of anything convincing and anyway, if Zelenka was right and this was a whole different universe, who knew what sorts of planets and people were out there. He couldn’t invent something when he didn’t know what he had to work with. So maybe the truth would work instead.

‘I came here by accident,’ he said. ‘Ask Zelenka.’

‘Oh, I’ll get down to what your connection to Zelenka is in a minute, don’t you worry,’ said Sheppard. ‘But right now it’s you I’m interested in.’

The door behind him opened and, as if they’d been waiting for some cue, three armed guards entered and stood by Sheppard’s side. He tapped the control panel and the forcefield emitted a blue flash as it disengaged, then Sheppard pulled open the cell gate and allowed the three men to go inside. Ronon braced himself, and blocked the first blow that came his way, though the second man was on him seconds later and another rifle butt crashed into his ribs.

‘Like I said, I hoped we could skip this part,’ said Sheppard casually. He stood leaning on the bars of the cell.

‘Guess we just have to do this the boring way after all.’

5.

Zelenka hurried away from the detention area, without any real idea where he was going. It was only when he’d put some distance between him and that place that he realised he was still shaking. Something about Sheppard had terrified him and instinctively made him want to get out. Perhaps it was just the wrongness of it all, that these people were familiar and yet so utterly different. At the same time, a knot of guilt twisted in the pit of his stomach at the thought of leaving Ronon behind, but what could he do? Even if he somehow managed to overpower Sheppard, which he doubted was possible, it’d take ages to figure out the controls and deactivate the forcefield, and as he’d left the room, Zelenka passed the SOs heading in. Sheppard had backup. No, he had to leave and find another way to get Ronon out. He only hoped Ronon understood that, and hadn’t just written him off as a coward.

He decided his idea was sound. He’d find McKay and hope that there was some trace of the man he knew in this version of him. The best place to start, he supposed, would be the main lab. So far, the layout of Atlantis seemed to be more or less the same. That was something.

He took the transporter to the corridor nearest the lab and approached it slowly, listening out for voices, though all he heard from the open doorway was the occasional clatter of laptop keys and what sounded like faint piano music, something complicated and classical. Glancing in, he saw a room that was more or less identical to the one he remembered, and he recognised a few of the scientists seated at the rows of desks ranged in the centre. None of them, however, looked at each other or spoke to one another. It was like walking into an exam hall. There was no sign of McKay, though on the far side of the room was a narrow door which in his version of Atlantis led through to the secondary lab. The music, which had a distinctly live quality about it rather than a recording, drifted out from behind this door. Beside it sat a desk, where Laura Cadman sat studying a computer. She was dressed, as were all the others, in the same black shirt, tie and jacket as he wore. There seemed to be no distinction between departments, or between the military and civilian personnel here. Perhaps there was no distinction. Her manner, though, and the position of the desk reminded Zelenka so much of a secretary guarding the office of a higher official, that he thought it was worth a try.

He attracted several furtive glances as he crossed the room but no one spoke to him, and even Cadman went back to her typing after she’d looked up to see who had approached the desk. Now he was closer to the door, Zelenka could see the name plate attached to it and felt a slight wash of relief and pride that his reasoning had been correct. It read, ‘Dr Meredith R. McKay. Head of Research and Development.’

Zelenka walked towards the door, intent on heading in, but Cadman cleared her throat loudly and deliberately, so he paused and looked down at her. She glowered back.

‘He’s busy,’ she said.

‘He’ll want to hear this,’ Zelenka replied, keeping things as vague as he could and trying to emulate the curtness he’d heard everyone else using around here, although it sounded weak to his ears.

Before Cadman could object, he pushed through into the other room. At once, the piano music grew louder. In fact, it filled the room, echoing around the high ceiling. This wasn’t the secondary lab, Zelenka realised. It looked more like a museum. The only scientific equipment around the place as antique and set on pedestals with warm spotlights focussed on each piece. A cabinet on one wall held an array of ancient glassware, an old astrolabe, and a few clay and stone tablets, each carved with depictions of either a stargate or some other Ancient device. A gilt model of Earth’s solar system stood on a black plinth in the middle of the room. The walls were decked in paintings and framed tapestries both from Earth and, by the looks of the artwork, other planets in the Pegasus Galaxy. Right at the back was an antique wooden desk with a green glass lamp, and behind it a tall bookcase stuffed full of leather-bound volumes, framed certificates and abstract ornaments that might have been trophies of some sort. A few metres from the desk was a full-sized grand piano, the source of the music. The lid was raised and the underside bore a painting of a pastoral scene, though one with an incongruous stargate right in the middle of its shepherds and golden wheatfields.

McKay sat at the piano and didn’t seem to notice Zelenka at first. He carried on playing - it was Chopin, Zelenka now heard, though he didn’t know the name of the piece - and Zelenka approached him slowly, working up the courage to speak and make his presence known. He tried to gauge this McKay from his mannerisms and expressions, looking for any signs of familiarity, though McKay was concentrating so hard on his playing that it was hard to read him. He looked the same, save the usual black uniform, over which he wore a long leather overcoat even though the room was uncomfortably warm. Zelenka drew in the breath to speak, when McKay suddenly froze, plunging the room into silence, then he turned and rose from the piano stool with the jerky, unnatural movements of an automaton.

‘McKay,’ Zelenka began, remembering at the last moment not to call him ‘Rodney’, given the name on the door plaque. ‘I was…’

He saw McKay raise his hand but saw it as if in slow motion. It was only when the blow struck and he found himself sprawled on the floor at McKay’s feet that it hit him what had happened. He clutched his jaw and tasted blood on his lips, while McKay stood over him, seething.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ he asked, emphasising each word as if he could barely restrain his fury. ‘Is there anyone this side of the Pegasus Galaxy that doesn’t know what you were doing?’

‘I don’t…’

McKay waved off his objections and started to pace around the room, hands clasped behind his back.

‘A discrete mission to test the device. Is that so difficult to understand? What exactly is discrete about letting yourself be held hostage by some primitive oaf? Perhaps next time you want to go quietly off-world and back again without attracting attention you can hire a marching band to go with you!’

‘Ro- McKay, listen to me…’ Zelenka struggled to his feet and wiped another bead of blood from his mouth.

‘I suppose it’s my own fault,’ McKay went on, ignoring him. ‘I should know better than to entrust something so important to some idiotic Communist. You’d better hope _she_ hasn’t heard about this. I won’t let your stupidity ruin my work. Do you understand me?’

Zelenka had no idea what to reply, but McKay prowled away and didn’t seem to need an answer. So much for getting his help, Zelenka thought. There was probably no one here that would help, he realised, and felt suddenly very small in the vast, dark room. Even if he could get Ronon out of his cell, he’d have to figure out how to get home, if there was a way to get home. The idea of being stranded here made him want to curl up on the floor and break down into tears, though he kept his resolve, telling himself he had to keep focused and keep calm, to look for opportunities, for anything that might be useful. McKay, meanwhile, had gone over to his desk and sank into his chair, studying a pile of handwritten notes in a folder in front of him.

‘Did you at least get the chance to see if the device actually worked before you got yourself kidnapped?’ he asked.

‘It seemed to,’ Zelenka replied, going on a hunch. ‘Though I thought something went strange with the gate, after the test.’

‘Strange how?’ McKay asked, distractedly, leafing through the file.

‘I’m not sure. There was a lot of atmospheric disturbance around the site.’

‘Probably a side effect. The new containment can filter out the majority of the exotic particles the field produces but there’s bound to be a little leakage. It’s not a problem.’

‘I wondered if I might look over the schematics again,’ Zelenka ventured. ‘Just to be sure.’

‘Of what?’ McKay asked, sighing. ‘You don’t think I’ve gone over the designs a hundred times? You think I’d trust something my sister came up with without checking it over first?’

‘Of course not. It’s more so that I can understand it better, perhaps see where I went wrong.’

He waited, holding his breath. McKay regarded him with narrowed eyes, obviously considering the matter. Finally he closed the file he’d been reading and tossed it across the desk. Zelenka caught it just in time.

‘Fine,’ McKay said. ‘Though it might have been an idea to do that before you ran the test. We’ll have to find some way to try again, preferably while her majesty is off-world so she won’t interfere…’

Before he’d finished the last syllable, a voice cut through the room on the city-wide PA system.

‘Doctor McKay, Doctor Zelenka, report to the supreme commander’s office immediately.’

‘Wonderful,’ McKay said and glared at Zelenka as he got up from his desk. He gestured towards the file. ‘For God’s sake put that away. What are you going to do, wave it at her?’

Zelenka folded the file in half and tucked it in the inside pocket of his coat, then followed McKay out of the office.

6.

‘You can’t say I didn’t warn you,’ said the Wraith with a hint of laughter in his voice.

More than ever, Ronon wanted to tear down the bars that separated their cells so he could wring the smug creature’s neck. Instead, he sat on the floor, just as the Wraith was doing, with his back against the wall and his eyes closed, as he controlled his breathing and fought to suppress the waves of pain that rippled through his body every time his ribs expanded. The guards had given up after an hour or so of clumsy brutality. He’d fought as much as he was able and consoled himself with the fact that he was pretty sure he’d broken one of their jaws, but he also realised that there were a great many guards in this city and Sheppard could just keep sending them. He couldn’t tell them what they wanted to know. He’d tried to tell the truth but no one was interested. Even by the end of his interrogation, which was more of a general beating than actual questioning, he hadn’t really gained any extra intelligence about this place that might be useful. He knew that Teyla was somehow connected, but not the details, and he hadn’t figured out who this queen was that they were all talking about, that he was supposedly there to rescue. Though that implied that whoever she was, she was here in Atlantis somewhere. Not that he knew what he could do with that information, but if this queen was an enemy of the Atlanteans, then perhaps she could be an ally.

‘Is your strategy to convince them you’re insane?’ asked the Wraith. ‘All this nonsense about other universes?’

‘What do you care?’

‘Casual interest, nothing more. At least it’s different. At least you’re not begging them and calling them ‘master’. That I really can’t stand any more.’

‘They’re not my masters,’ Ronon said.

‘Keep telling yourself that, friend. But the fact is, you’re not one of them. That means you’re inferior, at least in their eyes. You’d do well to remember that.’

‘Then they’re the fools,’ said Ronon. ‘Never underestimate your enemy.’

‘You’re going to bring down the entire Atlantean Empire, are you?’ The Wraith chuckled. ‘Good luck with that. There isn’t a planet in this galaxy they haven’t either subjugated or destroyed. Even my people didn’t stand a chance against them. What hope do you have?’

‘Why would they destroy everything?’ Ronon asked. ‘What’s the point?’

‘Why does there have to be a point?’ rejoined the Wraith. ‘Because they can destroy it, that’s why. They take what they want and what they don’t want, they can’t let anyone else have, because if any one other than them gains access to resources, they might eventually rise up and challenge the galaxy’s undisputed rulers. After all, they may have superior weaponry but there aren’t that many of them, not really. Not if you compare how many Athosians or Genii or even Wraith are out there. If ever any of those could gain the strength or the technology to mount a challenge against Atlantis, I’m not sure where I’d place the odds.’

‘So they’re in control of the entire galaxy?’ Ronon asked.

‘They call themselves the heirs of the Ancients,’ said the Wraith. ‘Claim their ancestors were the direct descendents of the people of Atlantis who fled in the first great war. Which we won, by the way. But they arrived here when my people were in their hibernation cycle and destroyed most of our hives before we had a chance to even realise they were there. They spread out across the galaxy, looking for other worlds the Ancients had seeded so they could re-establish control. Their theory, I believe, is that their ancestors created these people, therefore these people owe them fealty.’

‘And no one opposes them?’

‘Lots of people oppose them,’ said the Wraith. ‘The trouble is, they mostly do it in here.’ He looked round at Ronon and punched his chest, over his heart. ‘They don’t have the numbers or the weaponry to do anything else. One thing the Atlanteans made sure to do was to keep each group isolated, make sure they have no gate travel and therefore no way to form alliances. The only real danger were the Athosians, since they lived on the same planet, but they dealt with them. Took their queen hostage, so that if any of them try to mount an uprising she’ll be killed. And they regard her as some kind of living goddess, so they’re not about to risk her life any time soon.’

Ronon nodded, as things began to make some kind of sense. ‘Teyla Emmagan.’

‘I believe that’s what she calls herself, yes.’

‘And what about you? Why are you here?’

‘I let them capture me,’ said the Wraith.

‘Why?’

Before any answer came, the door opened and Ronon got to his feet, ready to face whatever came at him next, though the effort left him dizzy for a moment and he had to lean against the wall to steady himself. When he opened his eyes, there were no guards filing into the detention area. Instead, a woman in an elaborate floral headdress and piles of golden jewellery stepped up to the cell and regarded him curiously. Behind her stood a single SO, but he kept his hands behind his back and stayed near the door.

‘About time,’ said the Wraith, getting up.

Teyla gave Ronon one last look, as if she was trying to figure out what species he was, then went over to the Wraith’s cell.

‘Open it,’ she said to the guard. He moved forward and tapped something into the control panel. The forcefield flashed and was gone. The Wraith joined the two of them outside and dusted down his leather coat.

‘How are you going to explain this, Your Majesty?’ he asked, a sneer curling the corner of his mouth.

‘They have no reason to suspect me,’ said Teyla.

‘They have every reason to suspect you,’ replied the Wraith. ‘And if they find I’m gone before we have a chance to discuss our business, then all this will have been a waste of time. Might I make a suggestion.’

Teyla nodded. The Wraith pointed at Ronon.

‘Take him with us. He’s mad, but he might be useful, in that they might think he escaped and took me along with him. Once we’re clear, have your man call up and say the primitive attacked him and let me escape. At the very least it’ll delay them.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Some idiot. Thinks he’s from another universe.’

‘My name is Ronon Dex,’ Ronon said. ‘If you let me out, I can help you.’

Teyla considered the matter for a while, then nodded towards her guard. In a few more seconds, Ronon was out of his cell and following the three of them out into the corridors of this new Atlantis.

TBC.


	2. Part Two

7.

McKay stayed quiet as he left the lab and he maintained a brisk pace, so that Zelenka was forced to hurry to keep up. Zelenka hadn’t seen much of the gate room when he first stepped into it but now as they crossed its floor, headed for the stairs up to what, in Zelenka’s version of reality, was Colonel Carter’s office, he managed to take most of it in. Very little was different, save the colours on the stained glass behind the gate. A large banner showing the Atlantis mission logo on a blood-red background had been draped over the window at the top of the stairs. There was also some construction work going on in front of the gate itself. Several technicians in grey overalls were busy erecting some sort of scaffolding over a low dais.

‘That better not be for us,’ McKay muttered as they passed, but he didn’t hesitate and carried on up the stairs, so Zelenka didn’t have time to get a better look, or to ask what he meant.

McKay strode into the office first and came to an abrupt halt. Zelenka kept a little behind him, and realised he was hoping that he wouldn’t be noticed. McKay bowed stiffly and, Zelenka thought, reluctantly, to the woman seated at the desk before him.

‘Supreme Commander,’ he said. ‘Nice day for an execution.’

Elizabeth Weir smiled icily at him and leaned back in her chair. ‘Isn’t it? Just be grateful it isn’t yours.’

‘Ah, but for that, you’d actually have to both accuse me of something and find the proof to back that accusation without being removed from office first, which, as I recall, you’ve so far been unable to do.’

‘So far,’ Weir repeated. ‘There’s a time and a place for everything.’

McKay gave a forced chuckle. ‘Oh, Elizabeth, I do enjoy these little chats.’

‘Well, Meredith,’ replied Weir, ‘we do seem to be having them frequently these days.’

They each pronounced the other’s given name with unconcealed bile. Then Weir turned her gaze on Zelenka. Unconsciously, he straightened, almost standing to attention. He couldn’t quite work out what he felt looking at her. There was a mixture of regret and a feeling of a great void inside him when he remembered that his own Elizabeth Weir was gone, as well as a frisson of fear as he saw how severe this universe’s version of her was, though that was possibly exaggerated by the black uniform, like everyone else.

‘Doctor Zelenka,’ she said. ‘I trust you’ve recovered after your ordeal. You must tell me how you managed to get yourself captured by a degenerate off-worlder when, according to the itinerary you logged, you were only going fishing on an uninhabited planet.’

‘There is no end to my colleague’s capacity when it comes to failure,’ said McKay. ‘But you didn’t summon us here to talk about how Zelenka messed up his vacation. What do you want, Elizabeth?’

‘I want to know what you two are up to,’ said Weir. ‘Or rather… no, I don’t want to know. I want to remind you of what a stupid idea it would be carry on with some scheme or other behind my back. Which I’m sure you have no intention of doing because you value your own skin too much, Meredith, if nothing else.’

‘Are you suggesting my loyalty towards you is anything other than unquestioning?’

‘I’m suggesting that if it is,’ said Weir, ‘you won’t live to regret it. You may think you’re so far ahead of all the rest of us intellectually that you can dangle us around like puppets, but you overestimate yourself. You may well think you’re clever enough to come up with some doomsday weapon that’ll scare everyone into following you, so you can fly your flag over the Pegasus Galaxy and have everybody call you Grand Emperor McKay…’

McKay raised his finger. ‘I’m actually more inclined towards ‘Caesar’, but do go on.’

‘The trouble is, when everyone knows you’re a lying, two-faced son-of-a-bitch, they tend to watch you, whether you’re up to something or not. Now, I know for a fact that you sent your lackey here off to test that machine of yours, the one you think I don’t know about. The one you found in Janus’s lab, which you also think I don’t know about. What I can’t decide is whether you intend to try and seize power for yourself outright or if you’re working for someone on the outside, someone you can manipulate into doing all the dirty work to get rid of my people, before you betray them at the last second and assume command yourself. Sam Carter would be my guess, if it’s the latter. If it’s the former, then you’re stupider than even I take you for. No one is going to follow you, Meredith. No one even likes you.’

McKay pressed his hand over his heart in mock insult. ‘That is the cruelest thing anyone has said to me all day. And the most paranoid. Really, Elizabeth, do you listen to yourself? Maybe you shouldn’t have had Heightmeyer killed. She’d have a field day with that little speech.’

‘Just keep in mind,’ Weir went on, ignoring him, ‘that when you and your idiotic colleagues came close to waking up the race of beings that almost wiped out our ancestors, I was the one who destroyed them, before they had the chance to kill us all. I was the one who took the decision to find and burn the Wraith hives before they woke up, saving perhaps every race in this galaxy from being culled. I was the one who turned the Asurans into dust, and had the Genii begging to farm for us in exchange for an end to our blockade. They’ll remember what it was like when we first got here, when everyone was against us, when they all saw this city as theirs by right and tried to take it from us. They’ll remember who showed them what it is to be the true heirs of the Ancients, who it was put Atlantis in its rightful place as the capital of this galaxy. They know who it is that keeps the Athosians and the Hoffans and all the others from causing chaos, who brought peace to this galaxy after millennia of wars, and they know it isn’t you. You’ll find no support for your little coup, not here.’

‘Assuming I’m planning a coup, of course,’ said McKay. ‘I don’t usually like to repeat myself but as I said a few moments ago, you have no proof of anything.’

‘Don’t I?’

‘If you did, I’d already be dead or in jail. Don’t try to bluff with me. And as for your wonderful reputation throughout the cosmos, just remember how fragile a reputation actually is. One rumour, one lie, spread enough throughout the galaxy, and your little empire could come crashing down around your ears.’

‘Is that a threat?’

‘Not at all,’ said McKay. ‘It’s merely a description of the current state of affairs. Take from it what you will. Now, are we done posturing or do you want to air some more of your delusional theories?’

‘Actually, I wanted to talk to Dr Zelenka,’ said Weir, and Zelenka felt suddenly uncomfortably warm as she turned to stare at him. ‘The man who came through the gate with you. The reports haven’t exactly been clear and I don’t seem to have anything from you yet, so I wanted to hear it from you personally. What did he want? Did he make any demands? How exactly did he manage to get you to bring him through the gate?’

Zelenka froze, trying to think up a plausible story while his brain sent the same panicked messages round in circles and stopped any coherent thoughts from forming.

‘Doctor?’ Weir prompted.

‘He came out of nowhere,’ Zelenka managed at last. ‘I was just… observing the landscape.’ You were supposed to be on vacation, he told himself, that’s what McKay’s told everyone. ‘And the next I knew, I had a knife to my throat. I knew if he came through the gate he’d be brought down in seconds, so I thought it best just to let him think he’d won. That way, if he was working for any of our enemies, we would have him in custody and could interrogate him.’

He was quite proud of his lie, but watched Weir to see her reaction and for a long time, he couldn’t fathom what she was thinking or if she believed him. Finally she nodded, but there as a hardness in her expression that made him think she still had doubts.

‘Well, if he is,’ she said, ‘I’m sure John will get it out of him soon enough.’ She directed the last remark to McKay, with a knowing look. Which probably meant she thought McKay had somehow arranged Ronon’s arrival.

‘Well, gentlemen,’ Weir said, getting up, ‘I have some dissidents to take care of. I’m sure it won’t be too long before we meet again.’

McKay gave another of his stiff bows.

‘Oh, I’m sure it won’t,’ he muttered under his breath, then followed her out.

Zelenka, still reeling a little from the encounter, let out the breath he’d been holding and caught up with McKay on the steps overlooking the gate room. The scaffold by the gate was now complete, and Zelenka finally saw what it was for. Weir’s ‘dissidents’ were two men and two women, dressed in rough, colourless clothes, and they stood on the dais in a row. Their wrists were boundto the top rail of the scaffold, fixing them directly in front of the stargate. Zelenka worked out the method of their execution, just as Weir ordered her people to activate the gate. The four didn’t even have time to scream before the unstable vortex thrust out and engulfed them. When the energy receded all that remained were four sets of severed wrists, still dangling from the ropes.

8.

Once they were out of the detention area, Teyla led her group a few hundred metres along the hallway, then waited while the guard who accompanied her opened the hatch, revealing the access passage for the power systems. They each climbed up into the conduit and left the guard to close the hatch behind them. Ronon noticed he didn’t come with them, and a second later heard the crunch of static as the guard turned on his radio and reported the escape.

Teyla moved with confidence, evidently having navigated the city this way before, but it was still half an hour before she finally opened another hatch and climbed back out again. The Wraith went after her with Ronon following. Though the corridor’s architecture was identical to the one where they’d entered the passage, Ronon could tell they were nearer the outer edges of the city, as more sunlight streamed in through the windows, unhindered by the towers even at this low level.

At the end of the hallway lay a large, ornate doorway and Teyla headed straight through, into a large room whose floor was strewn with pillows and soft blankets, with a low, round table at the centre. Several other doors led off from this first chamber and a long balcony was visible beyond the tall windows on the far side, beyond which the forest of chrome towers at the heart of Atlantis glinted in the sunlight. A light breeze wafted in past gauzy curtains and brought the smell of the ocean with it. After the murk of the detention cell and the stink of damp around the city’s innards, the place felt fresh and calm. A faint hint of incense appeared now and then as the wind moved the air around.

Ronon realised the minute he sat on one of the pillows, his back against the wall, that he was exhausted and would have liked nothing more than to have slept for several hours, but he knew that wouldn’t be possible. Teyla, meanwhile, had fetched a tray of crystal decanters from somewhere and set it down on the table in front of him. She smiled as she straightened and smoothed down her dress, but it was a tense smile, and he could still read the suspicion in her eyes. The Wraith wandered over to the balcony doors and looked out, his hands behind his back. When Teyla raised of the decanters in an offer of a drink, the Wraith shook his head and looked away, but Ronon grabbed a glass from the table and held it out. The liquid had a sweet, herbal aroma and the alcohol warmed his throat as he swallowed. He drained the drink in one and set the glass back down, wincing as the movement caused his bruised and over-stretched muscles to ache again.

‘You are hurt,’ Teyla said, refilling the glass.

Ronon opened his eyes and saw her studying him.

‘I’m fine,’ he said, though it was a lie. His ribs were the worst. Some of them were broken by the feel of it, but the alcohol helped numb the pain a little. Then he thought about Zelenka and wondered how the doctor was faring. If they’d given him Zelenka same treatment he’d received, he might already be dead. Ronon wanted to believe that Zelenka had managed to worm his way out of trouble. Perhaps he’d have the sense to hide somewhere and work out a way to get them home, though somehow Ronon doubted that. It was always the ones who didn’t know how to fight who got themselves into the middle of the chaos.

‘Never mind him, he’s an imbecile,’ said the Wraith. ‘You called me, now I’m here. And it’s only a matter of time before your great and glorious leaders realise I didn’t escape with this fool and start searching properly. So what is it you want?’

Teyla sat on one of the cushions near Ronon, crosslegged yet still managing to look regal. Her floral headdress was beginning to wilt a little but even that didn’t detract from her dignity.

‘I share some blood with your people,’ she said.

‘DNA, not blood,’ the Wraith corrected, ‘and I had already worked that much out. I’ve never heard a human voice in my head before. It was somewhat unnerving. But if we’re being factual about it, my people only exist because my ancestors fed on your ancestors. So I doubt if our shared heritage you talk about really counts for much in terms of public opinion.’

‘It is true, there are many among my people who do not trust the Wraith.’

‘Wonder why,’ muttered Ronon.

The Wraith gave him a wry smile.

‘Yet I do not see how any of us can hope to free our people alone,’ Teyla went on. ‘These Atlanteans, or so they claim to be, have taken great care to keep the free peoples of the galaxy separated and at odds with one another. They spread rumour and lies to keep us suspicious when we should be united.’

‘You were all at war with one another when they came here. This galaxy was hardly a utopia before they arrived. They’re simply better at the game than you.’

‘We were afraid back then,’ said Teyla. ‘Afraid that your people would return and cull us, and so naturally some wanted to secure their safety…’

‘At the expense of their neighbours.’

‘Now, though, we are fighting for our existence. We cannot remain separated if we are to stand a chance of defeating the Atlanteans and living freely in our own galaxy again.’

‘Fine, but why include me?’ asked the Wraith. ‘Go make your alliances with the others.’

‘I include you, because without your help, we cannot survive. It is my belief that eventually the Atlanteans will have no choice but to eradicate those of us who refuse to subject ourselves to their so-called empire. Every day they execute dozens of people, those who chose to submit to them and serve as well as those who openly oppose them. They kill their subjects for no other crime than a misplaced word or suspected disloyalty. Remember what they did to the Genii homeworld, in retribution for their weapons programme. The Genii famine killed one hundred million in the space of two years. The Atlanteans engineered it, then they sweep in offering aid to the survivors, so long as they agree to work for a pittance and to pledge loyalty to their ‘superiors’. Over half of my own people were killed as punishment for resisting the Atlantean when they first discovered our settlement and tried to take it. Now the Athosiansthink the Atlanteans will burn their homes, or salt their fields until they starve, or have me killed, and so they are afraid to say or do anything they think will make them seem disloyal. It is no way to live, and we are sick of it.’

‘That’s all very tragic,’ said the Wraith, ‘but what concern is it of mine?’

‘I wish to offer you an alliance.’

The Wraith stared at her for a moment, then laughed. Ronon tried to find some trace of a lie in Teyla’s face, something to hint that she was trying to trick this creature, but she seemed in deadly earnest.

‘You’re joking, right?’ he asked her.

‘I know you have at least three hive ships that were not burned,’ Teyla said to the Wraith. ‘And I know that you can contact them the same way I contacted you. I wish you to do so. I need you to attack this city.’

‘Teyla, they’ll kill you,’ Ronon said.

‘I know,’ Teyla replied. She never once took her eyes off the Wraith and her expression never faltered. ‘But we will die anyway without them. So I am willing to offer you deal.’

‘Really?’ muttered the Wraith, trying to sound bored, but Ronon could tell she’d piqued his interest.The hunger made his yellow eyes gleam.

‘If you help us to launch a concerted attack on this city,’ Teyla went on, ‘we will offer you a proportion of the surviving population. We can negotiate a number if you agree to the general terms of the alliance.’

‘Will this ‘proportion’ be entirely composed of your allies or are you offering up your own people as well?’ asked the Wraith.

‘Teyla, you know what they’ll do to them,’ Ronon hissed.

‘I know very well what will happen to them,’ Teyla replied. ‘But as I have said, we will all be dead soon anyway. This way we have at least a fighting chance.And yes, I offer my own people as well as the others. I have already sent word to the other leaders and they’ve given their assent. So what do you say? Will you wake your hive ships and bring them here?’

‘To put an end to the Heirs of the Ancients once and for all,’ mused the Wraith. ‘I must admit, it is tempting.’

‘Contact your queen if you need her approval,’ said Teyla. ‘But I will need your reply soon.’

‘I’ll require some privacy,’ said the Wraith. Teyla nodded towards one of the other doors and he slinked off into the next room. As soon as the door closed again, Ronon leaned closer to Teyla.

‘You can’t do a deal with the Wraith. However bad these people are…’

‘What would you suggest then?’ Teyla snapped. When she turned to face him there was such bitterness and steel in her eyes that Ronon recoiled.

‘What do you know anyway,’ Teyla went on, softening her tone a little. ‘According to the Wraith, you are mad.’

‘I’m not mad.’

‘You’re just from another universe?’ She smiled.

‘Yes,’ said Ronon. ‘One where you’d never betray your own people.’

‘What I do I do for them,’ Teyla said. ‘I don’t expect you to understand.’

‘I understand. The Wraith destroyed my people. My home. They’ll do the same to you, to everyone in your alliance. There has to be another way.’

‘There is not,’ said Teyla. ‘Believe me, I have spent many years a prisoner here and had plenty of time to think this through. But the real question is, what do I do with you? Mad or not, you could help us. Will you join me, Ronon Dex?’

Ronon drained his glass, and tried to think of how to answer.

9.

Zelenka found his quarters, thankfully, in the same place as they were in his own universe, and sealed himself inside before collapsing, still fully dressed, on his bed. The image of the execution refused to leave his mind and he could still smell the coppery tang of blood on the air, as the same workers in overalls who’d erected the scaffold moved in to take it apart. The last thing he’d seen before he hurried out of the gate room to throw up was the workers dropping what was left of the so-called dissidents into a bucket. Even the word, ‘dissidents’, brought back echoes of his own childhood, of friends who suddenly found themselves out of jobs or turned away from university because of something they or their relatives said. Things the government didn’t care for. There was the same atmosphere around the city, people scared to say anything out loud, keeping their heads down so they’d not be noticed, and all the while being watched.

Once he’d cleaned himself up in one of the restrooms, he’d gone back to the detention area, hoping to have another go at the control panel so he could release Ronon, but he’d arrived to find a gaggle of SOs around the place, and picked up from their conversations that Ronon had already escaped, so he’d slipped away again and couldn’t think of anywhere else to go besides his own quarters. He needed to think. A few times, he thought he would have to stop and throw up again, but managed to keep in control until he got to his room. Wherever Ronon was, he could look after himself, Zelenka assured himself, but he worried that brute force alone wouldn’t count for much around here, where everyone suspected everyone else of treachery. He just hoped that Ronon’s instincts could keep him out of trouble until they found a way home.

Thinking of escape again, he remembered the file McKay had given him and pulled it out of his jacket pocket. He laid it out on the bed beside him and managed to roll over onto his side without being sick, so he could read it. At once, the maths and diagrams felt familiar. Though there were a few differences here and there, he recognised the work as Jeannie Miller’s, even thought McKay had claimed authorship. It was almost identical to the work Jeannie had done back at Atlantis’s original planetary site on the inter-dimensional bridge. The physics and general theory were the same, but rather than drawing zero point energy in order to power the city, McKay’s device seemed intended to focus it at a given target. He’d weaponised it, Zelenka thought. Elizabeth Weir had been right to suspect him. Intellectually he knew how revolting the idea was, and knew he should be shocked or appalled, but he was so exhausted, he couldn’t feel anything else.

Reading the schematics of the device though made some vague sense of what had happened to them, thogh. If McKay, or even this universe’s Zelenka, who presumably was still out there somewhere, had been playing around with the device, perhaps on the equivalent of the planet Ronon and he had been visiting, and had partially broken through, it might have caused the gate to glitch and lock onto this Atlantis rather than his own. Perhaps the gate had homed in on the universe the disturbance was coming from. If all that were true, then the most likely way to get home would be to recreate the effects, but that would mean copying the exact frequency and power levels they’d been using in their experiment. Otherwise, there would be no way of knowing which universe the gate might connect to.

For the first time, he wondered about this world’s version of himself. It hadn’t occurred to him before to question what had happened to the other Zelenka. Perhaps he’d died in the experiment. Perhaps he’d ended up in some other universe and was lost forever. Maybe he was back on Zelenka’s Atlantis, struggling to comprehend everything around him. But if everyone else was so different here, then what was he like?

He hadn’t really paid much attention to his room when he came in, as he’d been too desperate to rest and so just headed for the bed, but now Zelenka had had a moment to sit down and recover a little of his energy, he sat up and looked around. The place was spotless, nothing out of place, no clothes strewn over the furniture or books piled on the floor. Before his trip with Ronon, Zelenka had started to worry that unless he did something about the mess in his quarters, he’d end up buried alive beneath a pile of notes and books. This room, on the other hand, was as characterless as a hotel suite.

Zelenka got up and wandered around, feeling like a trespasser as he opened the wardrobe and looked through the clothes. Racks of identical uniforms, a few suits and plain shirts. Nothing casual. Everything evenly spaced and immaculately clean. The bookshelves contained a few books he had back home, but there were far more he didn’t recognise. There was a mixture of Czech, English and Russian titles, mostly physics and engineering texts, but there was a copy of Machiavelli’s _The Prince,_ a biography of Josef Stalin and a book entitled, _A Short History of the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic 1948-2000._ He only glanced at the last few chapters of that one, enough to see that here, there had been no Velvet Revolution, no end to Communist rule. Indeed, apparently Czechoslovakia had gone further even than the Warsaw Pact and, in 1977, had joined the Soviet Union as a satellite state. Zelenka put the book back, aware that he was being watched by a steely-eyed photograph of Lenin, which sat on the shelf nearby. There were no other pictures, though. No family, nothing personal at all.

Zelenka wondered if his doppelgänger had any family or any private life. It certainly didn’t seem so from this room. Just as he was ready to leave the shelves and look elsewhere for clues, however, he spotted a crumpled piece of paper sticking out of one of the books. It was the only thing out of place in an otherwise spotless room, so Zelenka lifted the book off the shelf and teased the paper out. It was a battered photograph, printed on glossy paper but creased all over as if it had been crushed into a ball at some point, then smoothed back out again. White lines distorted the photo along the creases but he could still make out the image of a woman and a small child, too young to tell its gender, but evidently hers from the familial resemblance. It wasn’t Zelenka’s sister, unless she looked different in this universe. Turning it over, he found a scribbled line on the back, in his handwriting. _Zuzana and Marie, Karlovy Vary, 1998._ Zelenka didn’t know anyone called Zuzana and Marie was such a common name, it meant nothing, but obviously this woman meant something to his counterpart. He replaced it where he’d found it. Somehow that seemed the right thing to do.

Finally, he turned his attention to a laptop, which he found on a desk beside the bookshelves. Sinking into the desk chair, he opened the computer and hit the power button. At once he was faced with a nondescript, system-standard desktop background and a prompt for a password. He cursed, and told himself he should’ve thought of that.

He tried his own password, but got an irate tone from the computer and a little red cross on the screen. If he gave too many wrong answers, the laptop might lock itself so he would need to think carefully. Remembering the photograph, he tried ‘Zuzana’ and then ‘ZuzanaMarie’, but neither worked.

Then he tried to think what age the child would’ve been in that picture. She looked about the same age as his nephew, so maybe two or three years old. If she was three, say, then that would make her date of birth 1995. He tried ‘Marie1995’, but got nowhere. He changed the date to 1996, in case he’d been wrong with his guess about the girl’s age, and waited for the tone and the curt message telling him to try again. Only it didn’t come. The little hourglass twirled, and the desktop loaded.

The laptop was set to show everything in Czech, which threw Zelenka for a moment because he always kept his computer in English, in case anything happened to him and someone needed to get the information out. He suspected his counterpart left it in Czech for the same reason, only to hinder rather than help. The layout was similar enough to the one he was used to that he quickly found his way into the internal network and his own personnel record. He wouldn’t be able to see anything confidential, but he figured he should be able to get the basic facts about himself. Hopefully that might help him get by in this world for however long he had to.

The file told him very little, though the amount of redacted information was telling. He suspected his doppelgänger had been involved with the KGB or whatever the equivalent organisation was in this universe, just from the phraseology and the amount of work projects that were listed as ‘classified work on behalf of the Soviet Union’.

The photograph attached to the file showed a slightly more gaunt version of himself, who wore his hair slicked back and looked like he rarely, if ever smiled. There was no mention of who Zuzana or Marie were. No one was listed as his next of kin. Was that his choice or did he really have no one in the world who’d care if something happened to him? He could be dead already, if something had gone wrong with McKay’s weapon, and if Zelenka managed to get back to his own universe, it could well be that no one would ever know what happened to his counterpart. He would simply have disappeared. Though in this world, he suspected that was a common occurrence.

He was tempted to look at any encyclopaedias or other reference files stored on the laptop to read up on the history of the Earth these people had come from, to see what had made them turn out like this, but he knew that would be wasting time. Instead he went into the file folders and trawled through the hundreds of documents, looking for something that might be notes for the covert mission his counterpart was on. If their positions were reversed, he would’ve left precise details of what he’d done, so that anyone coming after him would either be able to recreate the experiment or else would know what to avoid doing. Hopefully the other Zelenka thought along similar lines.

It was nearly midnight before he found it and by then, he felt like his eyes had been scraped with sandpaper and the dull, ever-present headache had turned into a stabbing pain both at the back of his skull and just behind his forehead. Reading without his glasses wasn’t helping. He’d been on the brink of giving up, when he opened a document marked MMZ4-7801, thinking it would be another ream of equations or jotted ideas, but as soon as the file opened, he saw the heading, ‘Test Firing - Notes’. Beneath it was a list of settings and frequencies. If those were the numbers that had been used, then all Zelenka had to do was set the machine up in the same way and dial the gate. He found a notepad on the desk and quickly jotted down the relevant numbers, then stashed the paper deep in his coat pocket, before he finally dragged himself back over to the bed and fell almost instantly asleep.

10.

Ronon didn’t know how long he’d slept, but when he stirred again, the sky beyond the balcony window was dark and studded with stars. Candles burned around the room, giving it a muted, golden light and dancing shadows. For a moment, he thought he was alone, that Teyla hadleft him there, asleep on the pillows on her floor, but then he heard the shift of fabric from one of the other rooms. He rolled over onto his side and saw her, standing in the doorway in a loose, satin gown. She’d removed her headdress and her hair hung straight down her back. Beyond her, he could just make out the Wraith. They were evidently deep in conversation but both kept their voices low, so that he only caught a stray word here and there, not enough to make out any context. On instinct, Ronon stayed where he was and kept still, so that if either of them happened to glance at him, they’d think him still asleep.

After a few minutes, he heard them move back into the main room and he could make out more of what they were saying.

‘Are you sure you can convince them?’ asked the Wraith.

‘They know the stakes as well as I do,’ Teyla said. ‘They know that a sacrifice must be made in order to prevent our extinction.’

‘I don’t know that I could condemn a third of my people to death so cooly.’

‘More than that have already perished, have they not? If you had had the chance to sacrifice one hive ship so that the others might not be burned, would you not have taken it?’

‘Perhaps,’ said the Wraith. ‘But even with my ships and even if you can convince the others to work together, it’s still no guarantee of victory. I’ve heard rumours, things the people here are working on. Weapons that can destroy an entire solar system.’

‘They have no such weapons. My spies would have told me.’

‘Your spies,’ said the Wraith with a sneer in his voice. ‘And how reliable are they?’

There was a long pause.

‘I need to return to my ship,’ the Wraith said at last. ‘You know how to contact me should the need arise. Otherwise, I will let you know whether or not I’ve succeeded in recruiting the last hives to our cause. I cannot guarantee that success, however.’

Ronan heard the Wraith walk by, then came the swish of the door as it opened and closed. The room fell into silence for a long while. Everything about this plan struck Ronon as stupid, though part of him could see the reasoning behind it. If people were desperate enough they might take any chance, no matter how much it might damage them later down the line. And anyway, he told himself, this wasn’t his home. It wasn’t his universe. What they did was their own business. Yet no matter how much he reminded himself that that woman was not the Teyla Emmagan he knew, who had helped him settle in when he first arrived in Atlantis, even if he hadn’t taken that help graciously, he couldn’t think of her as a stranger either.

A door chime sounded, and he heard Teyla’s footsteps as she headed over to answer it.

‘What do you want?’ she asked.

‘Hey to you too, Princess,’ answered Sheppard’s voice. Ronon held still and kept his eyes closed, but he tensed, ready to pounce if Sheppard got too near.

‘So this is where he’s hiding,’ Sheppard said. No prizes for guessing who he was talking about. ‘My men have been searching the whole base for this idiot. Apparently one of my corporals radioed in and said this guy escaped and took the Wraith with him.’

‘Perhaps he did,’ said Teyla. ‘And perhaps he had now broken into my quarters, drunk my wine and fallen asleep.’

‘Yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened.’

Sheppard walked over to where Ronon lay, and Ronon stayed as he was but allowed his eyes to open just a crack, so he could watch the other man as he drew closer. Sheppard stood for a moment, looking down at him, then shook his head and leaned forward to grab one of the decanters from the table. He pulled out the stopper and drank straight from the bottle.

‘So who is he?’ he asked.

‘I do not know. We think he is mad.’

‘We’re all mad here,’ Sheppard muttered. ‘Where’s he from? Which planet?’

‘I do not know. He did not say.’

Sheppard sighed. ‘Look, I don’t care if you want to take in strays. I get it. You get lonely in here. But I need to know where that Wraith is. This gorilla I can overlook but not a Wraith, Teyla. If Weir finds out, we’ll both be dead.’

‘The Wraith is gone,’ said Teyla. ‘He escaped when this one broke loose. Your corporal told you the truth. I have no idea where he went or what he intends to do.’

‘If you’re lying to me…’

‘John,’ Teyla interrupted, ‘I have never lied to you.’

She said it with such vehemence that Ronon almost believed her himself. He risked another glance and saw the two of them standing a few metres away. Teyla had taken Sheppard’s hands in her own and was looking up at him with an expression of great earnestness.

‘My only wish is for the safety of my people,’ she said. ‘I would never do anything that would jeopardise that.’

‘Better not,’ Sheppard said in a low voice. ‘I’ll never persuade Weir to let me take you away from here if she thinks she can’t trust you.’

‘And I would not jeopardise that future either, John Sheppard.’

Everything went quiet again, and this time the silence lasted so long that Ronon opened his eyes, thinking the two of them had left, but they were still there, locked in each other’s embrace. Eventually Sheppard pulled away and backed towards the door.

‘You need to get him out of here,’ he said. Ronon assumed that he was again being discussed. ‘If Weir or one of her people come by here and see him…’

‘I will deal with it,’ said Teyla.

Ronon heard the door slide open and shut again, then light footsteps padded towards him, someone moving barefoot on the tiled floor.

‘You will need to go,’ Teyla said. ‘He is right. They often check on me and it will not be good for you if they find you.’

Ronon gave up the pretence of sleep and sat up, to find Teyla crouched beside him. ‘Why didn’t Sheppard bring me in?’

‘Because he has no interest in you. You are mad. You can give him nothing of importance by way of information. But by the same reasoning, he will kill you if you become an inconvenience.’

‘Where am I supposed to go?’

‘As it happens, I may have a use for you,’ said Teyla, and she gave him a smile that made him think he wasn’t going to like what was coming next.

11.

The door chime roused Zelenka from a dreamless and fitful sleep. It took a moment for the source of the sound to register in his brain, then he groaned and sat up, finding his body stiff and sore when he tried to move. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw that it was just after one in the morning. The chime sounded again, and although it was exactly the same tone as before, it felt more insistent this time. Zelenka got up and cursed as his headache swelled again, so badly that he had to stand for a moment, leaning against the wall until the pain subsided. Then he went over and opened the door. The light outside in the corridor stung his eyes and at first, all he saw was a silhouetted figure on the threshold. Then as he grew used to the lighting, the silhouette resolved into Carson Beckett.

‘Evening, Comrade Doctor,’ Beckett said cheerfully.

‘It’s the middle of the night,’ Zelenka replied.

‘Is it really?’

Before Zelenka could protest, Beckett shoved past him and came into the room. He tapped the control by the door that turned on the lights and suddenly the place was blazing like the sun. Zelenka winced.

‘Head still bothering you?’ asked Beckett.

‘I’ll be fine if I can get some sleep. Now if you don’t mind…’

He gestured towards the door but Beckett ignored him and wandered further into the room.

‘I’ll not keep you long,’ he said, gazing idly about the room. He picked up one of the books from the shelf, one of the Russian ones, flicked through it so fast he couldn’t possible have seen anything of its content, then dropped it on the floor and moved on.

‘What do you want?’ Zelenka asked.

‘Just a word. Really just wanted to see how you were doing. That was a nasty thump you got off that soldier, wasn’t it? And that on top of being held hostage by some primitive warrior man, so I heard. Is that right?’

‘Yes, that’s what’s happened. Now, I really could use some sleep.’

‘Aye, I was surprised to see you in the infirmary,’ Beckett continued. ‘I think the last time I saw you in there was your last physical, what, over a year ago now. You’re not one to be accident prone, are you? Far too careful.’

Zelenka stayed quiet. Whatever was going on, he figured Beckett would get to the point eventually and nothing he said was going to change the agenda, so it was best to just let him get on with it.

‘But then your lot go in for all that, don’t they?’ Beckett said, then turned as he clarified, ‘Communists, I mean. Very into physical fitness and the likes. Lots of gymnastics on the weekend, is that the sort of thing? Aye, I remember the last time you were in the infirmary, all right. Top marks all round. Nothing wrong. Perfect specimen of Soviet manhood, relatively speaking. Only, you know why I remember it particularly? You see, I’ve got a wee bit of a hobby, just something to pass the time, because it gets a bit boring, day in, day out, looking at people’s grubby bits and telling them if I think it’s infected or not, and so one way I try to make my day pass a wee bit quicker is I like to look at their tattoos, when they have them. I’ve got quite good at judging what’s a good one, an expensive one, like, and what’s cheap rubbish. That’s why I remember you. Yours…what was it again? Oh aye, big star and hammer and sickle thing with a lion on it and ‘1968’ on a big scroll thing. Right across there.’ He slapped his hand against Zelenka’s chest, above the heart, then gave a faint smile and stepped back.

‘Funny that,’ he said, ‘how it wasn’t there this morning. Not a removal job either, ‘cause there’d be scars. See, it helps sometimes, a wee bit of medical training, helps you spot these things. So I got to thinking, what a puzzle, Beckett! How can a tattoo that big just disappear and not leave a trace? And do you know, I couldn’t think of the answer, except for one possible thing. That the tattoo hadn’t disappeared at all. It’s still there, attached to the right person. Which makes the person I’m looking at not the right person, if you get my meaning, Comrade Doctor.’

Zelenka was completely awake now. His pulse battered in his ears and he noticed, in particular, how Beckett had managed to place himself between him and the door, barring any escape.

‘What do you want?’ Zelenka asked again.

‘I don’t care who you are,’ Beckett replied. ‘One of the Asurans that survived somehow, or some clone or whatever, I don’t give a toss. You be you. But there’s a few people in this city might not be as accommodating as I am, if they were to hear about this. Our Meredith being one of them, I should think.’

Beckett came closer again and Zelenka stepped away on instinct, until he felt the wall against his back and couldn’t retreat any further. Then the doctor reached out and straightened Zelenka’s tie, still smiling to himself. A fog of citrus-tinged aftershave, and far too much of it, surrounded him, mixed in with a strong odour of alcohol and disinfectant.

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘that needn’t be the case. No one needs to find out you’re not one hundred per cent the fun-loving Communist we all admire.’

He smoothed down the lapels of Zelenka’s jacket then stepped back as if to admire his handiwork.

‘I asked you what you want,’ Zelenka said.

‘Oh, nothing big. Just a wee favour, now you ask.’

He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a small glass vial full of clear liquid. There was no label to say what the vial contained.

‘Couple of drops should be enough,’ Beckett said. ‘You spend enough time with dear old Meredith that getting this into his tea or his maple syrup or whatever the hell Canadians drink shouldn’t be a problem, right?’

‘What is it?’

‘You don’t need to know that. All you need to know is that if, for whatever reason, this wee dram doesn’t end up inside Meredith McKay, certain words might be spoken to certain people, and your life, Comrade Doctor, will become a whole lot more uncomfortable. Do we understand each other?’

He slipped the vial into the breast pocket of Zelenka’s coat.

‘See?’ he said. ‘Not so difficult, was it? I’ll be seeing you.’

He left the room, and Zelenka finally let out the breath he’d been holding.


End file.
